The Harry Starke Series: Books 1-3: The Harry Starke Series Boxset

by Blair Howard

  “Take a seat, Mr. Starke.” Mr. Starke? Geez. Tree motioned to one of two chairs in front of the desk. They were both too low. The legs had been shortened, and neither one looked strong enough to hold the small guy, Gold, let alone me. I wasn’t about give him that kind of advantage. I looked around, grabbed one from the side of the room by the blacked-out window, sat down in front of a desk that would have made a banker envious, and looked around.

  “What might I do for you, Mr. Starke?” Tree asked, as he lowered himself gently down into an executive chair that must have cost almost as much as my Maxima. I could hear the air whistle out of the over-stuffed upholstery as he sank into it, or was it air?

  This was a different Shady Tree than the one I was familiar with. He was smooth, a changed man. Not the street jock with the do rag he’d been the last time I saw him. No Ebonics, no street slang. The accent was almost refined, but not quite. He wore a nice, conservative gray suit, a pale blue shirt, and a maroon tie. Even the dreads were neat and shiny clean.

  “Wow, Shady. You’ve come up in the world. You win the lottery or rob a bank?”

  “Neither one, my friend. I am just a businessman, doing well.”

  “Businessman, my ass. You’re a crook, Shady. You always were. You always will be. You can’t help yourself. You’re into everything. Hookers, drugs, guns, protection, you name it. And,” I nodded in the direction of Duvon and Gold, “businessmen don’t need creeps like those two to guard their backs. Oh, and I’m not your friend.”

  Duvon took a step forward. Gold didn’t move. Tree held up his hand. I didn’t move. Duvon stopped.

  I looked across the desk at Tree. “Keep your dog on a tight leash, Shady. He steps into my space, I’ll geld him.”

  Duvon growled something I couldn’t understand, but he stepped back, his hands clasped together in front of his jeans, as if he was covering his package. Whether it was what I’d said about gelding him, or just a comfortable way for him to stand, I had no idea, but I grinned up at him anyway. The look on his face was priceless. I held his gaze for a moment, then turned my attention to Gold. Where the hell did Tree find these two? We have some pretty tough characters in Chattanooga, but these two? Big city boys? New York, maybe? D.C.?

  Duvon was an easy read. He was a tough soldier who provided the muscle that Tree must surely need on a daily basis. They come a dime a dozen, his sort. The street gangs breed them by the thousands. Gold, however, was a totally different type. He was indeed a small man, no more than five seven and slim. No, skinny. He was probably anorexic. That stupid suit was at least a size too big for him. But as ridiculous as he looked in his outfit, he had an air about him. This one is dangerous. His hair was dyed jet black; his narrow face was dominated by a sharp beak of a nose that looked too big for his face; his eyes were narrow slits of hate; his mouth was slightly parted in an icy half-smile. It was a look a shark would have been proud of. This was one to watch, carefully, a psychopath if ever I saw one.

  “Hey, Starke. You awake?”

  I came out of my reverie and smiled.

  “I tell you, Starke. I run a legitimate business now. I have my rentals over on Bailey that bring in a nice piece of change, and I have this sweet little mall. I own all the businesses in it. Ladies’ clothing, men’s clothing, the gym, cigar store, the restaurant. Don’t believe me? Check ‘em out. They’re all above board, and legal.”

  “Shady, I need your help.”

  “You... need... my... help?” He looked at me as if he was talking to a half-wit. “Hahaha! That’ll be the day, Starke. You got a hell of a nerve. You come in here, shovin’ your weight around, and then you ask for my help. You’re one crazy son of a bitch, an’ I ain’t forgotten this, either.” He pulled up his left sleeve and showed me the dimpled scar on his wrist. The result of a bullet I’d pumped into him a couple of years ago when I was working the Robinson case.

  “One of these days you gonna pay for d’pain an’ rehab I had ta go tru after you clipped my ass. I was outta work more’n two mont’s.”

  I smiled. The accent had slipped a couple of notches.

  “Shady, you never did a real day’s work in your life. Now tell me what you know about Tabitha Willard.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Duvon’s mouth twitch when I said her name.

  “Who? Tabitha who?”

  “Oh come on, Shady. You know who. I saw your boys, Stimpy and Ren there,” I nodded at the dynamic duo behind him, “arguing with her Monday night, in the Sorbonne.”

  They didn’t like that at all, being called Stimpy and Ren.

  “The classy white bitch?” Gold said. “We wuz jus’ tryin’ to pick ‘er up. Get us some o’ dat fine white ass.”

  “Bullshit. You were arguing. All three of you. Thirty minutes later, she came running out of the Sorbonne like the devil was on her tail. What did you do or say to scare her so bad she threw herself off the Walnut Street Bridge?”

  Duvon looked at me with wide eyes. Gold was slowly shaking his head. What I had said was news to both of them. They obviously didn’t know she was dead.

  “Nothin’. We dint do nothing,” Gold said slowly. “Like I said, we was jus’ tryin’ to pick ‘er up, man. She fine. Tol’ Duvon to go screw ‘imsef. Bitch!”

  “I was in that bar on Monday night. I saw what happened. You were arguing with the woman, not trying to pick her up. A half hour later, I was on the bridge when she came running toward me, scared stiff. She took one look at me, probably thought I was one of you mutts, and then she took a header over the rail into the water. The fall killed her.”

  I watched all three of them. Gold’s left eye twitched. Duvon clasped his package a little tighter. Shady smiled that nasty little smile I knew so well, only this time he showed teeth, teeth so white they almost twinkled.

  “Now I feel really bad that it was me who caused her to jump, and I don’t like that, Shady. And I’m going to find out why she jumped, what frightened her so much that she figured it would be better to die than to face whatever it was. I think you know what that was, Shady. In fact, I know you know.”

  I thought for a moment, and then decided to play the Hail Mary.

  I looked across the desk. “Okay. For now, let’s say I buy into the story that these two clowns were hitting on her.” I rolled my eyes at them. “So let’s talk about something else. What about Little Billy Harper, Shady? What’s your connection to him?”

  Now that did get a reaction. Tree leaned back in his chair. His eyes were narrow slits. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers, cocked his head to one side, and smiled. Now, if a barracuda could smile, it would look just like Shady looked at that precise moment.

  “Little Billy who? I don’t know anyone by that name. In fact, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Starke.” It was said almost in a whisper, so quietly I could barely hear him, and the refined accent had returned, with a vengeance.

  I decided not to push it. I didn’t need to. His reaction had told me what I wanted to know, and I was sure he would pass the message on, which was what I wanted anyway. I’d made my play. I’d thrown a little chum onto the waters. It would spread. Fish would bite. Now all I had to do was wait and be ready to snag one.

  I sat there for a long moment, staring at him, waiting for him to break. He didn’t. The steely eyes never blinked.

  “Nothing to say, Shady?”

  He didn’t answer, just sat there, rocking gently back and forth, the springs in the chair squeaking in time with the motion of the chair. I got to my feet, opened my jacket, and let my hand rest on the grip of the MP9. I backed up to the door, pulled it open and paused, all the time never taking my eyes off him, or his two clippers.

  “I’ll be back, Shady. Bet on it.” Hah, what’s that they say? If looks could kill?

  I stepped quickly through the doorway and pulled the door shut behind me.

  ---

  When I got back out into the open — the air outside was a lot fresher, b
ut cold — I decided to do as Shady had suggested, check out the businesses in his mall. I stepped back, all the way to the curb. For a strip mall, it was very fancy, faux Spanish architecture that was surely out of place in this part of town. Hell, it was out of place anywhere in town, a two-story affair that must have cost at least twenty mil to build.

  Aside from Shady’s unit, there was Angelique, an upscale store selling ladies apparel; Chester Knight, an equally upscale men’s clothing store; The Gym, which speaks for itself; Le Fume, a high price smoke shop selling expensive cigars and French cigarettes; and finally La Maison Ducat, an upscale French restaurant. What there might be on the upper floor, who knew?

  With the exception of the restaurant, they were all open for business. The two clothing stores were quiet, just a couple of customers in each, but they were certainly shopping. The smoke shop wasn’t very busy either. It could have been a jeweler’s store, but instead of diamonds and watches, the glass cases were humidors filled with expensive smokes. It almost made me want to start up smoking again. The gym was a different story. It was a hive of activity. Dozens of sweaty bodies worked expensive machines, and there had to be least ten exotic-looking personal trainers, male and female. Maybe Kate can check it out for me.

  The restaurant was even more special. I looked through glass windows into a quiet world of linen-covered tables, crystal glasses, and polished silver flatware. A discreet sign inside the door informed me that La Maison Ducat was open Tuesday through Saturday, from six o’clock in the evening. The closing time wasn’t listed. I would have to take Kate for a night out and give it a try. I might even try the gym myself. I walked around the block. The back was almost as nice as the front. A balcony ran the full length of the rear of the building. Each unit was separated by a privacy wall. There was parking enough for at least a hundred cars.

  So, Shady isn’t lying. These were all legitimate businesses, all except for his unit, of course. But I wasn’t buying it. I knew Shady well, and restaurants were not his bag, let alone the high-class boutiques. It all had to be a front, but for what? I had no idea.

  I looked at my watch. It was getting on toward noon. I took out my phone and dialed Kate’s number.

  “Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

  “You want some lunch?”

  “Sure. Where? When?”

  “Cheddars, on Gunbarrel Road. Twenty minutes.”

  “Okay. See you there.”

  A minute later, I was in the Maxima and heading north. It had been an interesting thirty minutes.

  Chapter 8

  Wow. This lady’s a cop? Kate was already there when I arrived, standing just outside the front entrance door. My God, she’s lovely. She was wearing a black business suit with a skirt that ended maybe two inches above the knee, a white, scoop-neck tee under the jacket, and black shoes with three-inch heels. Understated, but stunning.

  “Good God, Harry.” She looked me up and down. “You look like a thug.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.” I grinned at her, leaned in, pecked her on the cheek, took her elbow, and escorted her inside.

  Okay, you got it. By now, you’ve probably figured it out: the relationship between Kate and me is a little more than professional.

  It’s true. We go back a long way, Kate and me. I’ve known her since she was twenty-two, a rookie cop. And... Well, we’ve been an item, of sorts, almost ever since. I think the world of her, and she knows it. I’ve been trying to recruit her for years, but she won’t have it; something about “too much of a good thing.”

  I held Kate’s seat for her to sit down. I sat opposite her. We made small talk for a few moments, until the waiter arrived.

  Kate ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a Coke; I ordered a Philly cheesesteak and a Blue Moon beer, no orange slice.

  “So. How did it go, Harry?” Kate’s not one to waste words.

  “I had fun.” I took another bite and chewed slowly, watched her eyes.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Oh come on, Harry. Don’t tease. How did it go with Shady?”

  I leaned forward and took a sip of beer. “It’s complicated. I don’t quite know what to make of him. He’s certainly come up in the world. Says he’s a businessman, a man of property.” I paused for a moment, pulled out my phone and made a note that I needed to check that out, have someone take a look at the property records. See whose name is on the deeds.

  “Property? What property? The only property Tree owns that I know of is that block of rancid rentals he owns on Bailey, and he’s owned those for as long as I can remember.”

  “So he does, but have you seen that new strip mall up on McCallie, not far from the old church?”

  She nodded, then said, “No way. I’ve shopped there. In fact, that’s where I got this suit. That strip must have cost at least ten million. Where would he get that kind of money? He sure as hell couldn’t get a mortgage.”

  “More like twenty," I said, "and it’s out of place where it is. That area just doesn’t rate a strip of high-end businesses like those. That restaurant is something else. We should give it a try. My treat. What do you say?” I grinned at her.

  “Sure, why not. Maybe we’ll learn something.”

  “Right. I’ll figure it out. You care which evening?”

  “Nope. Whatever works for you.”

  I nodded. “You know, there’s no telling where he got the money, but I aim to find out. He made no bones about the fact that he owned the strip.”

  “What about Tabitha? Any connection?”

  “Oh, we talked about her at length. Those two gutter rats were there, and they know something, that I’m sure of. Gold said they were trying to pick her up, but I don’t buy it. I can’t figure why she would be in the Sorbonne. She was a class act, and that place is dangerous. I’ve never seen her in there before.”

  “Maybe she was just slumming, looking for a bit of rough.”

  “Nah, I don’t think so. Rough is one thing, risking a dose of something nasty, something you’re not likely to get rid of easily, is something else again. And anyway, her body language was all wrong. I’m sure she was arguing with them, and why did she run? And what in God’s name could have scared her so much she took a dive off the bridge?”

  We ate in silence for several minutes, both of deep in thought.

  “And Harper?” she asked finally. “What about him? Any connection to Tree?”

  “That’s a tough one. I threw Tree a bone. I got a reaction, but he denied knowing him. I figure if there is a connection, he’ll call Harper. If so, I’ll know it when I get to see him. Harper, that is. If I get to see him.”

  “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” She put her hand in her jacket pocket and fished out the pendant. “Any thoughts on this?” She handed it to me.

  I held it by its edges, so that we both could see it. “No, I showed the photo of it to Willard. I thought as he’d had some time to think, he might have remembered, but no. Do you think it’s significant?”

  She slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably not. Maybe. Hang onto it. Show it around if you like. It’s not doing either of us any good in my pocket.”

  I held it in the palm of my hand. The serpents seemed to have a life of their own. I tossed it a few inches into the air. It twinkled under the artificial lights, flashing red and gold. I caught it and slipped it into the inside pocket of my jacket.

  “I still need to talk the friend, Charlotte Maxwell. They looked close, in the photo, those two. Maybe she can shed some light on the story. We’ll see.”

  “When will you see Harper?”

  “The sooner the better. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

  “Discreet, Harry. Be discreet.”

  ‘Oh, I will. Don’t worry. I’ll have Jacque call him and make an appointment.”

  “How will you pull that off? He’s a congressman. You don’t just walk in there. What reason will you give him?”

  I thought for a moment. Sh
e was right. I had to have a reason. Even I can’t just walk in on one of the South’s most prominent politicians.

  “Dunno. I’ll think of something... maybe dear old Dad can help.”

  “Hah, good old Dad. When are you going to cut the string, Harry?”

  “I’m not. Why would I? The old boy is my secret weapon, my best asset in this town. Anyway, you like him, and he sure as hell loves you.”

  She nodded. “I love him, too. Pity he’s not twenty-five years younger. I’d trade you for him in a heartbeat.”

  “You couldn’t handle him.”

  “Oh, and why the hell not?”

  I grinned at her and looked at my watch. It was just after one-thirty, time to go back to work.

  “Time I wasn’t here, Kate.”

  We made arrangements to meet later that evening — I’d cook dinner — said our goodbyes, and we each went our separate ways, Kate back to the Department, me to the office.

  ---

  The first thing I did when I got back to the office was call my father. Fortunately, he wasn’t in court and his secretary put me straight through.

  “Hey, Dad. It’s me.”

  “Hey, son. How’s it going?”

  “Great, but I need a favor. I need to visit Congressman Harper, and I need an excuse. I need to use you, your name.”

  “Um... okay. You want to tell me about it?”

  “There’s not much to tell. Kate seems to think he’s up to something; she has an idea that he’s bilking the family foundation, money laundering, maybe. There’s talk that he may be siphoning cash out of the foundation for his campaign. Who knows? I also have a feeling he may be connected to some very nasty operators. Anyway, she asked me to take a look.”

  “Be careful, Harry. Be very careful. Hell, he could be our next senator.”